Sunday, August 16, 2009

Cranes, because they remind me of my mortality. I guess this is more of respect than love. They soar up into the air so gracefully. But if you've ever walked past the counter-weight at the bottom, you immediately feel like an ant.

When a cab pulls over on the shoulder of 9th Ave, and I look into the window to see the driver furtively eating from a Styrofoam carton. Greater voyeurism than a peep show.

Seeing pigeon footprints in dried cement on the sidewalk. Almost like the beach!

Sitting a few yards away from the halal meat truck near Baruch College and listening to the Arabic pop music cassettes.

When the man at the salad counter at the deli compares my beauty to that of a crasin. It took me a while to appreciate this.

The fact that in the not-too-distant past, no one really gave a damn about my fake ID.

Late-night running when the air is crisp and cool, and the streetlamps look like stars.